


Cups of Coffee

by TigerMoon



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Boys Kissing, Brief Violence, Drabble Collection, Elevator Sex, Family Feels, Gen, Hot Chocolate, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, cursing, two old gay men being old and gay, v6 spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2018-12-19 06:35:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11892078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerMoon/pseuds/TigerMoon
Summary: A collection of drabbles and flash fics done on Tumblr, all about my favorite old men and their fabulous gay adventures.Latest Chapter: Oscar dives into Ozpin's memories (v6 spoilers, Tumblr request)





	1. Time For You

**Author's Note:**

> Most of these came about due to challenges or requests sent to me via [my tumblr ](http://tigerstripedmoon.tumblr.com); I'll occasionally take requests, though it depends on my mood and how good the prompt is.

“Qrow.”

The creature in question fluffed his feathers and gave a questioning caw from his comfortable perch atop Headmaster Ozpin’s shoulder.

“In a bit, I promise.”

Another caw, and the crow nibbled the man’s earlobe.

Ozpin sighed and flipped through his scroll. “Qrow, please. I have to finish this.”

A flurry of wingbeats, and the crow plucked the scroll from his hands. “No,” Qrow scolded as soon as he turned back. “You have to get some sleep. This can wait.“

“It can’t.” Ozpin glanced up at him, chocolate eyes smudged underneath with weariness like kohl. “There’s just… there’s never enough time.”

Qrow sighed, snapping the scroll closed. “Not even for me?” he asked, crouching down beside his chair.

A pale hand stole out and wrapped itself in the other’ grey-streaked locks. “My dusty old Qrow,” Ozpin murmured, stroking his cheek. “I’ll always have time for you.”


	2. Never Enough Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Time Travel, cloqwork

“What can I _do?_ ” Qrow begs and though the bottle of bourbon he’s slugged down has slurred his words it can do nothing to take away the horror that thrums through his veins, the pain that stabs his heart and makes the backs of his eyes burn ( _dead Ozpin’s dead oh gods he can’t be dead I failed I **failed** him_); “When I go back- the attack is in _two hours_ -”

His doppelganger stares at him, unfathomably older in Mistral’s foggy moonlight; he grabs Qrow by the wrist and forces him to look him in they eye. “You’ll _save_ him,” he growls, and there is something manic beneath the grief, self-loathing and bitterness and desperation; “You can’t save Vale but _you can save him_.”


	3. Afraid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Ozpin and Qrow, comforting Oscar

Sunsets in the city of Mistral were breathtaking. From its perch high upon the cliffside, one could see far out upon the namesake country, the wilds and forests that made up the main province. Beyond there lay the rise and fall of mountains, snow-capped at their tallest peaks, and unseen beyond that-

Oscar leaned against the railing of the hostel room’s balcony. Beyond the mountains lay the farm. The farm and his auntie and the loft above the barn he’d made all his own, with the rug he’d bartered for and the homemade quilt his aunt had made him for Yule one year and his books and-

“Do you ever get homesick, Oz?”

A flash of something ran through Oscar’s mind- a tall, tall tower, the steady ticking of a clock, the crackle of flames- gone, gone, gone. _All the time_ , Ozpin said softly.

Oscar ran his thumb over the railing, letting his thumbnail catch on the dents in the wood. “It’s gone now, though, isn’t it? Your home?”

An ache tugged at his chest. _Beacon is-_

“Beacon’s gone. For now.” Heavy footsteps came up behind him; Qrow paused before folding himself down onto the balcony, letting a long leg dangle off the edge. “The Grimm are too heavy for anyone to push aside, and, well — Atlas sure as hell ain’t gonna clean up the mess they helped cause.”

Resignation from Ozpin; Oscar glanced at Qrow before biting on his lower lip. “Is that what’s going to happen here?” he asked.

“That’s what we’re trying to prevent.” Qrow took a sip from his flask.

A few moments passed before, in a much smaller voice: “… is that what’s gonna happen to the farm?”

Qrow sat up straight beside him, eyes narrowed. In his mind, he could feel warmth, Ozpin’s hard-fought steadfastness like a blanket around him. “I – I mean. You said this – this Salem. She knew what Ozpin was, right? She – they – she burned down an _entire huntsmans academy_ just to kill him, what’s going to stop her from burning my auntie to get to me? Or Mistral?”

“Oscar,” Qrow began.

“I don’t-” He choked and rubbed his burning eyes. “I don’t want people to die ‘cause of me.”

_Then we have to protect them_ , came Ozpin’s reply, heavy with the weight of years. _Neither you nor I had a choice in this matter, and we can grieve what what has happened or what might have been, but we cannot let that grief destroy us_.

Oscar, his head tilted as he listened, clenched his fists. “But-!”

“But nothing,” Qrow said, his brow furrowed in concern. “I dunno what Oz is telling you, but I’m willing to bet it’s wise and not very comforting. And he’s probably right.”

“I’m _scared_ ,” he said – to whom he didn’t know. Before he could get the words out of his mouth, there were warm arms about his shoulders ( _Ozpin_ ) and a hand on his back ( _Qrow_ ) and Oscar wanted to cry all over again because he was scared and homesick and being a child… and it was okay to be that way.

Because Oscar was scared and homesick… and so were they.


	4. Love In an Elevator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Livin' it up while I'm goin' down_
> 
> Prompt: The old trope of 'trapped in the elevator'. This one's saucy~

Qrow was in the middle of story involving himself, six Grimm, and a helpless damsel in distress when the elevator lurched to the side with a sickening squeal, throwing him off balance and smashing him and his helpless audience against the wall.

The lights went out; the motors made a terrible grinding noise before they, too, went silent.

“This,” complained Ozpin, his voice thin and nasal in the darkness, “is not how I’d hoped to spend my day off. Also, I think you broke my nose.”

“Oh, please. You have more Aura in your nose than most people have in their entire bodies, Oz.” The emergency lights flickered, then turned on, casting a low green glow over the cramped room. Ozpin was flat on his back on the floor, pinned under Qrow. A sizeable dent in the fabric wall covering showed exactly where he’d been smashed face-first into it; his glasses hung askew on his face, one lens cracked. His nose wasn’t bleeding, but from the way his eyes were scrunched, he was definitely feeling the effects. Qrow grinned when Ozpin glared up at him. “You poor thing. Want me to kiss it better?”

Amber eyes flickered over to the camera in the corner, now dead, then back at the man above him. “Well,” he said, with as much dignity as he could muster, “it would be the very least you could do, seeing as you caused this.”

Qrow chuckled and pecked a kiss to the tip of his nose. “That didn’t help one bit,” Ozpin complained.

“Oh? Let me try again.” Two more quick pecks, then a third. He grinned, sly and mocking. “How’s that?”

Ozpin rolled his eyes. “My nose still hurts. And my head. You’re really quite terrible at th-”

Laughing, Qrow bent and peppered Ozpin’s face with kisses- tiny nips to his jaw, feather-light presses to his eyelids, nuzzles against his cheeks and throat before a slow press of lips against lips. The man beneath him sighed and raked his hands up his powerful arms, sucked at his bottom lip.

“Now?” Qrow asked when they parted for air.

Ozpin’s voice was full and throaty. “Who said you could stop?” he breathed, curling his fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“ _I think stopping for a moment would be a good idea.”_

Both men froze as the distinctly feminine voice echoed in the broken elevator. “Oh, hey, Glynda,” Qrow said after a second’s pause. “So. We put on a good enough show for you?”

Beneath him, Ozpin covered his face with his hands and groaned.

“ _I only looked long enough to make sure you were both alive.”_  Her voice was horribly amused. “ _I’m not into voyeurism, Qrow.”_

“Funny, I could have sworn you were into something kinky-”

“ _Anyway-”_  They could practically hear her rolling her eyes at that. “ _We’ll have a repair crew there to get you out in, say, ten minutes? Do be sure to wrap up your… private discussions… before then. I wouldn’t want you two to get caught sharing sensitive information.”_  A click, and she was gone.

Qrow looked down at Ozpin. “Did she just…?”

Ozpin was ahead of him, reaching back up to pull him down again. “Nine minutes, thirty-seven seconds now, Qrow,” he murmured, his amber eyes alight in the dim lighting. “Think that’s enough time?”

A wicked smile split his lips. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I think that’s enough.”


	5. Caped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Ozpin trying on Qrow's cape

Ozpin didn’t see the purpose in capes.

They were all the rage with young Huntsmen- and even Huntresses- silly lengths of fabric more likely to get caught in doors or shredded by shrubbery than to provide any real, practical protection. In his day, long field coats had been _de rigeur_ ; practical, rugged, made for inclement weather, and at least a decent trenchcoat had damned pockets in it. What the hell use was a cape?

(Granted, there _were_ uses for capes, particularly Qrow’s, but none of those uses were ones the headmaster would ever admit to in polite company.)

Qrow had left his cape behind this morning, actually. It had ripped nearly in half during his last mission and Ozpin was still in the process of mending it. He shook the fabric out, testing the strength of his stitches. The fabric didn’t look like much in his hands, but damn if it didn’t complete Qrow’s look. Ozpin had to admit, he often felt rather plain standing beside the old bird- the preening crow and the stodgy old headmaster.

“I wonder,” he murmured to himself. It was a silly notion, but- but he was alone, and no one could see, so what could it hurt? There was a full-length mirror in the bedroom; he stood before it, fidgeting, ears and cheeks scarlet with embarrassment before shrugging his jacket off and tossing the fabric around him. The cape fluttered about his shoulders, hanging loosely off his vest-

“Hey, not bad~”

Ozpin started, snatching the cape off and whirling around as Qrow started laughing. “I was- just-” He floundered, his face as red as the cape. “Making sure I mended it properly! That’s all!”

“Suuure, Oz.” Qrow pointedly eyed him up and down as he sauntered over. “Gotta say, I kinda liked that. It’s a little too short for you, but that just means it doesn’t cover up your best _assets_.”

Ozpin groaned and covered his face with the cape. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“What, the great and powerful headmaster of Beacon playing dressup with his boyfriend’s clothes?” Qrow pulled the cape away and kissed him on the nose. “Nope.”


	6. Roses White as Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Kisses because everything hurts right now, even being loved by you, but you're the only thing that makes it better

_She stood on an open field, that precious white rose blooming crimson in the snow and the dust and the wind, a little scar of white that stained red red red over his fingers, unseeing, unfeeling, and the red wouldn’t go back in, silver eyes fading, she touched his cheek and smiled, godsdamn her, she smiled-_

“Qrow." A hand on his shoulder, warm and comforting. “Qrow, you’ve had enough.”

“Fuck you.” How Ozpin had found him out here, in the woods off the coast of northern Vale, Qrow didn’t know. Qrow didn’t care. All he cared about was the white tombstone out on the cliff before him, the words in marble- “’Thus Kindly I Scatter’. Heh.” He drained the bottle of vodka and tossed it to the ground with the rest. The alcohol burned going down; he needed it, needed the burn to drown out the tightness in his chest, the burning in his eyes. “Summer- She wasn’t ready for this kind of mission! She didn’t deserve this!”

Ozpin knelt beside him. “I know,” he said quietly.

“You know? You  _know?!_  You  _fucked up_ , Oz! You sent her out to die!” And it hurt, it hurt so much to scream at the man he loved, but there was no one else to turn against in his drunken grief. No one else but Ozpin, who took it all with quiet acceptance, his warm brown eyes soft and understanding - and that hurt too, that he wouldn’t get mad, or shout, or anything. “Why- you fucking-”

“I know, Qrow,” he said again, and Qrow swung out and struck him a terrific blow to the jaw, sending him sprawling backwards. 

Qrow pounced, straddling him, all rage and fury. “ _Quit- fucking-_ _ **saying**_ _that!_ ” he screamed in Ozpin’s face. Tears streamed down Qrow’s cheeks now; he ignored them, balling his fists up in the other’s shirt and shaking him. “You sent her to die like a fucking pawn and I-” He choked as Ozpin put his hands on his shoulders. “I- I couldn’t save her- I couldn’t-”

“I know,” Ozpin whispered. “Gods, I know.”

Qrow sobbed once, raw and desperate, and pressed himself forward to a rough kiss. He hated this, he hated  _everything_  right now- Ozpin, Summer, fate, himself- but Ozpin’s arms wrapped tight around him, running soothing hands up and down his back, murmuring comfort against the rough and biting kisses. “I’m sorry,” Qrow sobbed. “I’m sorry-”

Ozpin held him tighter, kissed the corner of his lips. “I know, love,” he murmured. “I am too.”


	7. Chocolate Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 'we're being silly for once' kisses

Most people were aware that Ozpin was fueled by black coffee (and insomnia, and pig-headed stubbornness). What most people didn’t know was that when those failed him, when he was practically giddy in his exhaustion and on the edge of delirium, he had a secret weapon.

Hot chocolate.

Pure sugar, with cocoa— because gods know he never ate properly— was the fuel that pressed him through the late nights. Until it failed. (Or until someone came and put an end to his nonsense.)

Right now, though, he was in the properly silly sugar-fueled rush that came from downing six tall hot chocolates in a row.

“Y’know,” Qrow managed with a straight face, leaning against his desk, “you’ve got a hell of a mustache going there.”

Ozpin stopped looking over requisition notes and glanced up at him. “A _what_?” he asked, head tilted in utter confusion. He looked almost birdlike, and Qrow burst into laughter.

“In fact,” Qrow chuckled, “I haven’t seen one that fancy since the last time Ruby drank chocolate milk.”

It took a second for that to process in Ozpin’s exhausted brain. His cheeks flushed scarlet up to the tips of his ears. “Oh.”

Qrow leaned over the desk, a grin on his face. “So… want me to shave you?”

Ozpin blinked, then burst out laughing. “You’re ridiculous,” he chuckled, leaning forward. “But how can I say no to being pampered like that?”

“Better be still, then, or I’ll nick ya.” Laughing, they came together, Qrow’s tongue swiping across Ozpin’s upper lip as Ozpin ran his hands across his powerful arms. A flick of tongue against tongue, a low growl, Ozpin nibbling Qrow’s lower lip before meeting in a lazy chocolate-fueled kiss.

“So,” Qrow mumbled against Ozpin’s lips, “how ‘bout a facial?”

Ozpin shoved him off, laughing. “Qrow. _No_.”

“Qrow _yes_.” He grinned and licked his lips. “Mistrali massage? Full-body.”

“Qrow…”

The corvid leaned forward and stole another kiss, eyes wicked and merry. “It even comes with a happy ending~”

Ozpin chuckled and shook his head. Qrow rose to meet him, Ozpin draping his arms around his waist and pulling him close. “I already have that,” he whispered, and kissed him again.


	8. Of Magic, Animagi, and Frog Slime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts AU!

“Will you _be still_ , Branwen? I’m trying to concentrate.”

 

The boy in question peeked his head up above the edge of the cauldron, laughing as his companion irritably flicked frog slime at him. “Nah,” Qrow said cheekily. “’s more fun riling you up. Why’re you so worried, anyway? It worked on Raven, didn’t it?”

 

Ozpin heaved a put-upon sigh, giving his boyfriend a flat look. “Barely,” he drawled. “And while I don’t care if she sprouts six legs and a two-tonne tail, I would much rather leave _your_ tail just as it is, thank you.”

 

“I could make _so many comments_ , Oz-”

 

“Oh, shut up.”

 

Qrow laughed again, the sound echoing in the empty room. They made quite the oddball pair, even for a school as eccentric as Hogwarts. Qrow was perhaps the most notorious student in the school―Gryffindor, naturally, with a track record of misbehavior that put even the legendary Weasleys to shame. He wore his Muggleborn status as a symbol of pride and it was entirely his fault that Muggle clothing was experiencing a fashion trend among the students.

 

And then there was Ozpin, the quiet Slytherin prefect. Who and what he was, was something of a point of contention, as he was much too young to have hair so silver, and his sheer magical ability was on an absurd level. He didn’t even use a proper wand to do magic, but a walking cane―when he deigned to use anything at all. It was ridiculous and several of his teachers resented having a pupil so much more skilled than they were. So did the students, when they weren’t deciding Ozpin wasn’t some kind of monster hybrid or reincarnation of the Dark Lord.

 

(Qrow knew the truth. Qrow knew the truth and _stayed_ , and Ozpin loved him all the more fiercely for it.)

 

Ozpin wiped the last of the slime onto a nearby cloth and pulled out the most essential part of the spell―three glossy black crow feathers. “You do know we’ll be expelled if we’re caught? A prank is one thing, but unregistered animagi are still―”

 

“ _Yes._ Oz, quit worrying.” He took hold of the other’s bony wrist and squeezed. “I got this. _You’ve_ got this.” Qrow leaned forward over the cauldron and kissed him on the corner of the lips, awkward but eager. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else.”

 

“...all right.” Ozpin smiled, phoenix fire dancing behind his eyes. “Then let’s do this.”


	9. Lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ozpin meets a newborn Ruby Rose and it brings up memories bittersweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for v6e3 yo.

When Summer Rose puts a tiny newborn Ruby into his arms, Ozpin briefly―very briefly―panics.

It’s not because he doesn’t know what to do with her. It’s because he does.

( _hold her tight support her head that fragile life will soon be gone, they all grow and die and he remains_ _―_ )

But either he’s very good at hiding it or Summer’s too tired to notice, because she gives an exhausted kind of laugh as Yang crawls up into her lap. “You’re a natural,” she teases gently. “Have you done this before?”

“More times than I can count,” he says, and something in his tone of voice must have given him away because her weary smiles begins to fade.

“I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories―”

“But you didn’t.” Ruby’s tiny fist grabs onto his finger and Ozpin softens, the faintest hint of a smile gracing his lips. “Those are such wonderful memories, Summer. Not _mine_ , but―mine. Not every life had children but those that did were blessed.”

( _He doesn’t think about those first four. About Ozma, and Salem, and those first four little girls, a torn toy burning in ashes. He_ _ **doesn’t.**_ )

“… I used to sing to them,” he adds, his voice oddly tight. “At night. It was the one time when I could stop, put the rest of the world aside, and just focus on my children.” He lets out a low breath, shuddering. “I only wish I had stopped to do so more often.”

Summer puts a hand atop his wrist, gently squeezing, and he doesn’t look at her, those huge silver eyes that look so much like the children he’d once had. At Yang, peeking out curiously at him from behind her cloak. At Ruby and her unfocused blue-grey eyes, innocent.

“The girls love lullabies,” Summer says gently.

( _His children are gone. But these ones remain, and that is enough to let him hope._ )

Ozpin closes his eyes, draws in a deep breath, and quietly begins to sing.


	10. because they're here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by maripr on tumblr: "Ok but imagine if by the end of the volume, RWBY and co finally understand how much Oz has sacrificed and they vow to stay by his side. And he's never heard anyone say that after revealing his biggest secrets to them, everyone has abandoned him, but not now. Sho he just drops to his knees and weeps."

“We’re not leaving.”

He used to tell them, centuries and centuries ago. The ones he that carried his heart and his hope–-friends, lovers–-he would slit his wrists with his words and let his sins bleed from his flesh, all so they could understand. Who he was. What he was. What he could and could never be.

He told them everything, and they crucified him on their anger.

(But they were justified, he told himself with every life anew, brought down at the hands of someone he loved, terrified and betrayed. He deserved this. He  _deserved this_ , if this was what the truth brought him, death and sorrow.)

With each new betrayal, his heart scarred closed just a bit more.

Until he just… stopped.

Betrayal and honesty set back his mission from the Gods. that was all. It had nothing to do with his aching heart, his unbearable loneliness, the rejection of his being at every turn.

And if he had to silence the truth to gain this small sense of comfort–-he was still human. Still human, no matter what the world said. 

( _Please, Gods_ , he’d pray–- _let me still be human_.)

And now, this. Truth spoken again after centuries of silence. Betrayal. And he is so, so very heartsick and tired, his heart and his hope shattered about him.

And yet–-

“We’re not leaving you, Professor Ozpin.”

There’s Ruby, crouched before him, silver eyes faintly glowing. There’s his students, gathered together, cautious smiles on their faces–smiling at him, why are they smiling at him, why? There’s warmth within his soul, Oscar softly encouraging. There’s weight beside him; Qrow, he knows with every spark of his soul, and he has to look up then, when that calloused hand smooths over his back, soothing. 

They’re here. They’re–- _here_ , with him. They know what he is, they know the truth and they’re–-

His legs give out from under him; his vision blurs and a sob wrenches its way out of his chest, another, another, his scarred heart ripped open and unable to hold so much emotion after so many centuries.

Ozpin lets himself sink into hands about him, the murmured words, and just–- _feels_. Just for that moment.

Because they’re here.


	11. Deep Dive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr request by @valasania-the-pale: Oscar diving into Ozpin's memories.

It’s like breaking through ice, when Oscar closes his eyes; it’s pain, cold and sharp and it squeezes his lungs shut until he’s struggling for just one breath, suffocating.

Memory is what Oscar has always used to comfort himself–a panacea against the world, when days are long and nights are longer–but there is no comfort to be found here. Not here, in the whirlwind storm that is Ozpin’s self-hatred, haunted memories played on endless loop.

There’s screams in the wind, children’s sobs, voices Oscar knows because they are him and he is them,  _stop_  and  _no_  and  _please Gods please, not my children, not my girls._

_Believe me._

_Help me._

_Please don’t go._

Those are the loudest, slurred together in a blur of self-loathing and desperation,  _pleasedon’tgoplease_ , buried under echoed voices from the past, anger and vitriol. Betrayal and bitterness, repeated through centuries, memories thick like tar and clinging at him, draining hope. Those are where the cracks are, deep within, the center of the storm–where the pain and the fear run deepest and the memories keep Ozpin trapped, drowning.

Oscar drags in a deep breath and dives in.


End file.
